The Nasty Nuptials
by carrymehome
Summary: A dark version of life and death following the successful wedding between Violet and Olaf. - flash backs in italics just in case that's confusing. Story is complete.
1. Chapter 1

Violet lay in the filthy bed pretending to be sleeping; hoping that her rouse would earn her at least some respite from Count Olaf's prurient appetite. She could smell cheap wine seeping from his skin mixed with the stench of poor hygiene. His hot breath hit the back of her neck milliseconds before his words hit her ears.

"Get up, orphan" he hissed. "I expect breakfast in half an hour."

Violet shuddered at the sight of a conscious count but she was also happy for the excuse to leave his bed and his grasp. Seeing her dress thrown in a ball on the floor, she slipped quickly from the bed to get dressed. The count watched with a lecherous smirk on his lips.

Had Violet been a grown woman, she would have worn corsets and garters and layers of under clothing meant to both add to a woman's allure while still maintaining a proper degree of Victorian modesty. But Violet was not a grown woman. Violet was a little girl and she had only a simple chemise that reached her knees. Her childish knickers had been ripped beyond repair, but she was grateful for at least the small amount of dignity allowed to her by what had survived the Count's assault. If nothing else, the chemise hid the evidence of the nasty nuptials.


	2. Chapter 2

Violet skidded down the stairs hoping to take refuge in the kitchen. Klaus and Sunny were already awake and they were visibly relieved to see her.

"Aboo?" Sunny said which, in this case meant "are you ok?"

Violet put on a brave face. "Everything is fine. Come on, let's get something to eat." Her face may have been brave, but her voice was defeated. Olaf had taken everything from them: their parents' inheritance, their happiness, their childhood and Violet's innocence. Now they lived under the threat that he would, in his words "dispose of" Klaus and Sunny and keep Violet for his own twisted pleasure. Violet knew she had to find a way to stop him, but first she had to make breakfast. She remembered how the Count had sent Klaus flying across that very kitchen floor, blackening his eye. It wouldn't help to anger him.

The Count strode into the kitchen as Violet was dutifully trying to make scrambled eggs and toast without burning anything. He seemed as pleased as someone like him could be, which was menacing in its own way. If the Count was happy, there must be some sinister cause behind it.

"I'm glad to see you hard at work, _Countess_," he said pointedly popping a bite of egg into his mouth. "We will leave for the bank at 9:00am sharp. Klaus and Sunny will remain with my associates. I still have a few tricks for you to perform, my stubborn mule, and I can't very well give up my sticks just yet."

He stared directly at Klaus daring him to challenge him. Klaus stayed silent but not because he was feeling particularly obedient that morning or because he was intimidated by the Count. Klaus had fixed his gaze just behind the Count where Violet stood in front of the pantry tying back her hair with a ribbon so that it wouldn't bother her.

Violet was making a plan.


	3. Chapter 3

Count Olaf waltzed into the bank later that morning feeling rather pleased with himself. He had managed to steal the Beaudelaire fortune away right under everyone's noses and had won himself a rather pleasing little toy in the process. Violet's presence at the bank was, strictly speaking, unnecessary as there was no question she was now his wife and therefore all of her property belonged to him. No additional consent or cooperation from Violet was required. The only reason for her presence that morning was because Count Olaf wanted to gloat and he was thoroughly enjoying his moment.

He sat down opposite of Mr Poe leaving Violet to stand uncomfortably behind him.

"Here we are, as promised, to withdraw my lovely bride's inheritance," the Count drawled.

"I'm afraid that's not going to be possible."

The Count's self-satisfied grin remained, but his eyes darkened dangerously. "She is my wife, her property belongs to me, you have no right to keep me from it."

"be that as it may, " Mr. Poe continued, "the inheritance is not Violet's property for you to take…not yet in any case. That money will stay right here until Violet's twenty-first birthday as the will requires."

Count Olaf's eyes were murderous, but he appeared calm. "We shall see," he said ominously before turning on his heel to leave. While not a genuinely skilled actor by any measure, he was at least practiced enough to pretend to maintain his composure.

The ride home was a different matter entirely. He did not speak, but gripped the steering wheel as though he would have gladly choked the life out of it. Violet stared at the Count's angry, spider like hands as memories of the previous night flooded back to her.

_"You said," he spat shoving her against the wall and pinning her by grabbing her face quite painfully, "that you would marry me and be my countess in exchange for your sister's safety. If your intent is to renege on that promise, I can easily arrange for Sunny to be right back where she was last night."_

_Here "renege" means Violet resisting the Count's sexual advances by slapping, kicking and even stealing a page out of Sunny's book and biting whatever pieces of Count Olaf got near her. That is until he forced his way through her assault and shoved her against the aforementioned wall._

_Olaf had found her weakness and they both knew it. No matter how disgusted she was at the thought of Olaf invading her body in the most vile way possible, she could not allow Sunny to die a violent and painful death. And she had no doubt that is exactly what would happen if she did not get herself under control. Violet swallowed hard, balled her fists at her side and forced herself to stand perfectly still. She pictured herself back at the sea shore with her brother and sister. Before Mr. Poe came to deliver terrible news. Before they ever knew Count Olaf existed. Before Violet ever imagined she might have to sacrifice herself to keep her promise to her parents. She wasn't exactly cooperative but she also wasn't being difficult and Count Olaf understood that knowing when to declare victory was often all it took to win._

_"There's a good girl," he purred as he traced Violet's clenched jaw line with his spider like hands._


	4. Chapter 4

Violet was brought out of one nightmare into another when Count Olaf slammed the car door. He didn't check to see that Violet was following him but she followed him anyway. She didn't want him alone with Klaus or Sunny in his current frame of mind. Klaus had the good sense to busy himself with an outdoor chore and Violet hoped he had the further good sense to stay there.

The Count slammed through the house swearing colorfully under his breath. Even the cut throats he called his associates were giving him a wide berth. He finally settled on his office as the best place to fume and slammed the door behind him only to open it again immediately and bellow "VIOLET!" She was reasonably certain that being behind those particular doors with that particular man at that particular moment was the very last place she wanted to be but she was also reasonably certain that any delays on her part would not be tolerated. "Bring wine!" he added turning his back on her without a doubt in his mind that she wouldn't dare disobey him. And much to her personal dissatisfaction, he was right. She did not dare, at least not until she found a way to gain the upper hand. She would bide her time.

Violet's hands shook as she took a bottle of wine from the pantry and crossed the foyer back to the Count's office. She stood just inside the open door, not wanting to close off her only exit and not wanting an audience for what she thought might be coming. Unable to decide which was the lesser of evils, she stood there with the bottle in hand and simply waited. She didn't wait long "Get inside you stupid orphan, and close the door!"

She placed the wine bottle on the Count's desk and quickly surveyed the furniture. She passed a loveseat big enough for two, a chaise lounge built for reclining and went for the smallest chair available which was conveniently the furthest away from the Count himself who was seated at his desk, leaning back in his chair with his fingers templed . She watched the Count consider the bottle of wine and then, with his fingernails, peel the seal off of the cork.

_The Count's fingernails were jagged and unkempt and they scratched Violet's skin as they softly scraped against Violet's neck and collar bone eventually drifting to explore the limits of the wedding dress neckline. "Yes," the Count whispered more to himself than anyone, "very good girl."_

"So," he said with a coolness that was in sudden stark contrast to his demeanor ever since Mr. Poe had refused him. The change was more frightening to Violet than the blind rage had been. "It would appear that you have a reprieve." Here reprieve means that Violet, Klaus and Sunny must be kept alive and in the Count's grasps for the next seven years until Violet retrieved her inheritance.

The Count spun in his chair to take two glasses out of the credenza behind his desk and then spun back to face Violet. He set the glasses on the desk, poured wine into them both, selected a glass for himself and indicated for Violet to take the other. She took the glass to appease him but did not drink it, preferring to keep her wits about her. The Count did not appear to notice Violet's abstention and drained his own glass quickly before refilling it a second time.

"Very well," he said flatly as though Mr. Poe's legal move had been some shrewd idea on Violet's part that the Count was congratulating, "I may not be a rich man like your parents were, but I can be a patient man. Seven years to acquire a fortune is not beyond my ability," here he leaned forward and looked Violet directly in the eye, "particularly when I have certain…distractions…at my disposal." Violet shuddered involuntarily and the Count pointedly lowered his gaze.

_He abandoned the exploration of the dress's neckline and reached for the line of buttons extending the length of Violet's back. Unluckily for Violet, the dress was not a real wedding dress, but a costume. A real wedding dress would have been made with real buttons which would have taken a fair amount of time and effort to undo, delaying Violet's disturbing fate. A costume is designed for fast backstage changes and has been designed to come off very quickly. And easily. Unfortunately. The Count mashed his lips painfully against hers and before she could fully recover from the shock of the unexpected kiss, the wedding dress was in a heap around her ankles._

Despite her resolve to maintain her wits, Violet found that she actually wanted the glass of wine that was in her hand. Her change of heart did not go unnoticed and the Count continued to press his advantage.

"Because you and your siblings will be remaining here at my expense, you will make yourselves useful. You, in particular _Countess_, "Olaf enjoyed the effect his use of this word had in Violet. It was nearly a Pavlovian response except that his small wife went dead white rather than salivate, "will ensure that the house is kept in an appropriate state, the meals are served and, of course, you will continue to see to my personal needs. And you will get better."

_"Don't," Violet heard a voice say and it took a moment for her to realize it was hers. It was shaking and frightened and did not sound at all like she remembered sounding. Count Olaf was amused._

_"Don't what, exactly?" perhaps by feigning ignorance he could trick his innocent little wife into some dirty talk. Violet didn't respond, but choked on the lump rising in her throat. Olaf didn't give up on baiting her. "This?" he asked grazing her non-existent breasts with the back of his hand as he moved his hand down her trembling body "or this?" his face darkened as he reached the hem of her bloomers._


	5. Chapter 5

Violet, Klaus and Sunny used the walk to the market as an opportunity to speak freely, something they didn't dare do at the house.

"I don't think Mr. Poe figured that out all on his own," Klaus said indignantly, not wanting to admit that Mr. Poe had thought of a loophole that had escaped Klaus.

"Well, regardless of who thought of it, I'm not sure how much of a favor it is to us," Violet replied.

"What do you mean?" Klaus asked incredulously, "He made it pretty clear that he planned to murder us once he got the inheritance."

"I had thought," Violet explained, " that he might get careless if he got what he wanted and then we could make a break for it."

"What do you think now?" Klaus was hoping the Violet has a better plan than that.

"I think," Violet stepped into the dry goods store, "I think that it's about time someone dealt with the rats at that house, don't you?"

Klaus was dumbstruck. Was Violet suddenly interested in playing the dutiful housewife to Count Olaf?

"But I'll need you to help me keep an eye on Sunny," Violet continued, " We will need quite a bit of arsenic to take care of all the rats and we must be very careful that she doesn't get into anything."

"Quite right, young lady," said the man behind the counter approvingly. "I'm glad to see you appreciate the care you will need to exercise around such dangerous chemicals."

Klaus didn't pay much attention to the rest of Violet's conversation with the shop keeper. Evidently she had impressed him with her "responsible attitude" sufficiently that he was going to sell her the poison despite her being only a child. Klaus was still slightly shocked and, admittedly impressed, that Violet was concocting such a devious plan. Escape, he was prepared for, but to poison Olaf?

The thought Klaus had worked very hard to keep out of his mind invaded it once again. What had Olaf done to Violet behind closed doors to drive her to murder?

_Violet's had so far fought her instinct to do whatever it took to get away from the Count. She had swallowed the bile that rose in her throat and clenched her fists to remind herself to remain frozen. Klaus and Sunny's very lives depended on her cooperation. But when the Count shoved his hand inside her bloomers and began groping her with his bony fingers, panic overtook her and she could not remain still._

_Fortunately for Klaus and Sunny, the Count did not take offense. To the contrary, he took pleasure in the fact that he had frightened Violet into submission and equal pleasure that he had frightened her into an uncontrollable panic. The power over her excited him like a shark who had detected blood in the water. Olaf pulled hard against Violet's bloomers, ripping the fabric of the cheap clothing Mrs. Poe had purchased for her. He dispensed with his own trousers just as quickly leaving no other barrier to the consummation he desired._

_He threw the flailing Violet to the bed and dove on top of her pinning her underneath him. In a single impossibly fast move, he captured both of her wrists in one of his hands and held them together over her head. With the other, he forced Violet's legs open and began stabbing her with his engorged member. Violet was something of a moving target, but the count was undeterred. _

_When he finally hit his target, Violet was struck with a burning, stabbing pain and she cried out before she could stop herself which only encouraged the Count further. "Shouts of ecstasy, my love?" he asked her knowing they were really cries of pain and knowing that he was adding insult to injury by implying otherwise. She couldn't escape so she settled for turning her face and hiding in the crook of her arm that was still pinned above her head by the Count. Eventually, the Court's thrusts became less frantic and adopted a slower, deeper movement. He strained at each thrust and Violet felt his entire body shudder before he collapsed sweaty, stinking and breathless on top of her._

_The count rolled off to the side, panting in the bed next to Violet. The moment he released her, she tried to escape but there was something dangerous in the way he called her back that made her stop in her tracks._

_"I might assume, Violet, from your disobedient nature that your parents were remiss in their duties as…" here he smiled cruely "…disciplinarians?" These words hung in the air as the pit in Violet's stomach grew heavier. "Rest assured, I am not similarly neglectful. If you leave this bed without permission, I will punish you within an inch of your life." Here the Count looked meaningfully at a riding crop she had not previously noticed perched atop a dresser just beyond the foot of the bed. The Count didn't ride horses, so this crop had to have been procured for…other purposes. " And in the event that you're tempted to play the martyr," he continued, " whatever punishment you receive, your brother and sister will receive also."_

_With that, he rolled onto his back and closed his eyes confident that Violet would not dare to so much as place a single toe over the edge of the filthy mattress. Violet sat stock still for several moments before conceding to herself that he had won…at least for now. She resigned herself to her fate (temporarily of course, she told herself) and thought that surely the worst had to be over with. When the creaking of the bed announced Violet's decision to finally lie down, the Count, eyes still closed, smiled and breathed "Good girl, indeed." _


	6. Chapter 6

Since the wedding, Olaf's "associates" had become a constant fixture in the home. They stood guard over the Beaudelaire children, sensing that something must be planned although they had no idea what. Although Count Olaf would have liked to allow himself to think that he was so formidable that he had instantly quashed any rebellious spirit Violet may have had, not even he was that stupid. She was obedient, for now. She made the effort to submit to his advances, which he enjoyed. And failed, which he also enjoyed. But Olaf knew that a girl like Violet was only biding her time and he had to be on his guard.

It was difficult, however, to be on one's guard when the house seemed beset by successive waves of flu. His associates stopped coming to the house in an effort to avoid whatever seemed to be plaguing them but Olaf was unaware of this fact as he had remained in bed for several days on end, unable to summon the strength to stand.

Violet appeared in the bedroom one day with shopping bags full of ladies dresses rather than the alcohol and groceries he had ordered her to buy. He wanted to reprimand her. Truth be told, he wanted to beat the hell out of her for her frivolousness and to abate his own misery, but he didn't have the strength to do either at the moment and he had to settle for glaring menacingly at her.

She glanced carelessly at him acting as though she had only just now remembered that the Count would still be in the bed. "Oh," she said flatly, "you're still in bed then?"

Olaf bristled and Violet reveled in his response. She was the cat for a change and she was going to enjoy herself quite thoroughly.

"The doctor will be by again later," she said lightly as she took out the newly purchased garments and admired them. "He just can't seem to understand what's wrong? Why are you getting sick over and over again and yet the rest of us never catch a thing?"

Violet paused for effect as though she were actually contemplating the question she had raised before she returned to inventorying her new purchases. The final dress she removed was all black. A mourning gown. She held it up to herself and turned to model it for Olaf. "Lovely, don't you think?"

At this Violet turned towards Olaf and came to sit down on the edge of the bed. "If you ask me," she said very quietly, "it's all that drink." Violet smiled ominously and very slowly, understanding dawned in the Count's otherwise glassy eyes.

Violet reached for a glass of cheap wine which had been left on the Count's bedside table the night prior. "You didn't finish your wine," she said bringing it to his lips.

Knowing what the glass really contained, Olaf used what strength he had left to refuse the wine. Violet calmly swept the bottom of the glass with her finger and examined the accumulation of crystalized grit she had collected. She seized Olaf quite painfully by the face and force his jaws to part.

"Don't," he rasped weakly.

"Don't what, exactly?" Violet echoed back to him before swiping her fingertip inside the Count's mouth and leaving the room.

When the doctor arrived to examine the sleeping Count Olaf, he was not surprised to find that the man had passed in his sleep. Diseased liver brought on by too much drink, the doctor surmised. And to think, leaving behind such a pretty young wife.


End file.
